TRIBUTE 


MEMORY 


EEY.  SAMUEL  WALLACE  CLARK. 


'A  man  shall  be  commended  according  to  his  wisdom."  — Proverbs. 


BOSTON: 

PEINTED  BY  DAMRELL  &  MOORE, 
No.  52  Washington  Street. 
184  7. 


TO 

MRS.  REBEKAH  HOWE  CLARK, 

WITH  HER  CHILDREN, 

FRANCES  WALLACE,  JOHN  HOWE,  LUCY  BARRON  CLARK, 

THIS  IMPERFECT  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  MEMORY 
OF 

HER   HUSBAND    AND   THEIR  FATHER, 

THE  LATE 

REVEREND  SAMUEL  WALLACE  CLARK, 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY   AND    GRATEFULLY  INSCEIBED  BY 

HIS  COMPANION  AND  THEIR  FRIEND. 

V 


A  TEIBUTE,  ETC. 


My  Dear  Friends, 

The  exercises  of  this  day  have  been  sufficiently 
exciting,  and  so  far  protracted,  as  to  make  it  unsea- 
sonable and  almost  improper  for  me  to  draw  farther 
upon  your  attention.  My  excuse  for  thus  doing,  is 
the  iinusual  and  tender  circumstances  of  the  occa- 
sion, and  the  desire  of  the  bereaved  family  of  the 
deceased  pastor,  my  dear  friend,  made  known  to  me 
since  the  morning  service.  As  for  myself,  I  should 
best  consult  the  bias  and  preference  of  my  own  feel- 
ings, were  I  to  remain  silent.  For  there  are  times  in 
which,  to  a  thoughtful  mind,  the  occasion  and  pass- 
ing scenes  themselves  speak  with  an  eloquence  and 
impressiveness,  deeper,  more  solemn  and  instructive, 
than  the  words  of  any  man. 

At  such  times,  an  attempt  to  improve  the  occa- 
sion, serves  only  to  degrade  and  detract  from  a 
solemnity  and  power,  peculiarly,  wholly,  and  inde- 
pendently its  own.  But  such  an  attempt  has,  at 
least,  this  one  advantage  and  apology :  it  allows  and 
enables  the  surcharged  and  smitten  heart  to  find 
BURTON  HIST.  COLLECTION 
DETROIT 


relief  by  the  utterance  of  its  feelings,  — in  the  not 
ungrateful  expression  of  its  griefs  and  its  sorrows. 

Yes,  my  friends,  how  solemn  —  how  tender  —  how 
melancholy  — yea,  and  how  delightful,  too,  are  the 
occasion  and  circumstances  of  our  assembUng  on 
this  Sabbath-day !    We  celebrate  and  commemorate 
the  life  and  death  of  Christ,  our  Redeemer  and  Salva- 
tion—of Jesus,  our  exemplar  and  elder  brother; 
we  do  see  before  us,  and  on  this  table,  the  emblems 
of  his  body  and  of  his  blood ;  yea,  with  your  own 
hands  ye  have  handled  them  — have  also  eaten  and 
drunken  of  them,  and  have  heard  that  once  crucified, 
but  now  risen  and  exalted  Saviour,  saying  to  us,  one 
and  all,  his  believing  disciples:  "I  am  the  resurrec- 
tion, and  the  life :  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he 
were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live  :  And  whosoever  liveth 
and  believeth  in  me  shall  never  die.    Believest  thou 
this  ? "    And  at  the  same  time,  we  do  mourn  and 
celebrate,  with  strangely  conflicting  and  minghng 
emotions  of  joy  and  of  grief;  the  blameless  and  irre- 
proachable  life,  the  happy  and  Christian  death,  of  a 
true  servant  of  God,  a  sincere  minister  of  Christ,  an 
affectionate   pastor,  the  faithful  husband,  brother, 
father,  intimate  associate,  revered  and  beloved  friend ; 
whose  faith,  whose  hopes,  were  all  centred  in  Christ, 
in  whose  service  he  meekly  and  patiently  lived,  and 
in  whose  love,  stronger  than  death,  he  happily  and 
triumphantly  died.    It  may  not  be  unwelcome  to 
your  feeUngs,  that  one  who  has  had  unusual  oppor- 
tunities and  occasions  for  knowing  and  loving  him, 
in  all  the  relations  of  life,  as  well  aad  as  intimately 


in  social  and  private  as  in  public  and  official  life, 
should  speak  a  few  words  of  him,  his  character  and 
his  life ;  modestly,  I  say,  for  he  that  should  otherwise 
speak  of  Samuel  W.  Clark  would  surely  speak  in 
a  manner  unacceptable  to  and  unworthy  of  the  sub- 
ject of  his  remarks.  Here  let  me,  and  do  you,  once 
and  for  all,  renounce  and  disclaim  every  thing  like 
adulation,  creature-homage.  God  alone,  my  hearers, 
is  great,  and  God  alone  is  supremely  good.  But,  as 
for  our  friend  and  our  brother,  he  was  an  imperfect 
and  fallible  man  —  a  self-ruined,  self-condemned,  and 
guilty  sinner:  this  he  plainly  knew,  deeply  felt. 
And  our  brother  was,  thanks  to  God  in  Christ,  a 
washed  and  pardoned  sinner,  a  saint,  renewed  and 
redeemed  by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  as  he  humbly 
and  modestly  hoped ;  rejoicing  and  triumphing,  not 
always  without  fear,  in  that  blessed  hope.  But  you 
have  heard  this  day,  from  the  warm  and  affectionate 
lips  of  a  brother  in  nature  and  a  brother  in  Christ,  of 
our  friend  and  brother  as  a  Christian.  I  will  speak 
of  him,  therefore,  in  other,  more  general,  not  higher 
or  more  interesting,  aspects  of  character. 

Let  me  then  say,  your  deceased  pastor,  husband, 
father,  brother,  was  a  man  of  a  high  order  of  intellect, 
the  native  gift  of  God.  And  this  gift  was  increased 
and  chastened  by  cultivation,  through  a  long,  faithful, 
and  regular  course  of  study  and  of  discipline.  The 
pursuit  and  contemplation  of  truth  was  his  dehght,  — 
of  all  truth  ;  truth  in  nature,  truth  reduced  to  science, 
truth  in  life  and  in  Providence ;  but  especially  and 
above  all,  was  the  truth  of  God,  as  revealed  in  his 


i 


6 

Word,  his  highest  joy,  his  supreme  delight.  To  a 
degree  unusual,  he  brought  with  him  from  the  pub- 
he  institutions,  —  where  he  was  ever  known  and 
approved  himself  a  conscientious,  faithful,  successful, 
yet  unambitious  student,  —  his  inquisitive,  studious 
tastes  and  habits  of  mind. 

His  relative  circumstances,  his  early-begun  and 
long-continued  infirmities,  served  only  to  increase, 
and  not,  as  is  natural  and  common,  to  abate  and 
weaken,  his  love  and  pursuit  of  learning  and  of  truth. 
In  sickness,  I  may  not  say  in  health,  but  in  poverty, 
in  joy  and  in  sorrow,  he  seemed  never  to  have  lost, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  the  run  of  the  history  of  sound 
learning,  or  to  have  abated  in  the  least  his  devotion 
and  attachment  thereto.  I  have  often  thought,  that 
in  him  and  his  life  was  illustrated,  not  indeed  without 
undeserved  exception  and  abatement,  the  noble  trib- 
ute and  panegyric  of  learning  made  by  the  floman 
scholar  and  orator :  "  These  studies  occupy  our  youth, 
make  our  riper  years  happy,  are  an  ornament  in 
prosperity,  a  refuge  and  solace  in  adversity,  delight 
us  at  home,  and  are  no  hindrance  to  us  abroad,  spend 
the  night  with  us,  go  with  us  in  our  travels,  and  pass 
the  time  with  us  in  our  country  abodes."  Next  to  the 
promises  and  hopes  of  the  gospel,  letters  and  learn- 
ing, especially  sacred  and  biblical  learning,  in  the 
bosom  of  an  affectionate  family,  in  his  humble  dwell- 
ing, in  which  his  library  was  his  greatest  luxury, 
were  his  solace  and  his  refuge  from  the  cares,  the 
perplexities,  and  annoyances  of  life,  for  a  stoic  endur- 
ing of  which  his  sensitive  and  noble  soul  was  too 


1 


finely  strung.  He  who  should  form  his  estimate  and 
opinion  of  Samuel  W.  Clark,  as  a  scholar  and  a 
man  of  intellect,  from  the  exhibitions  and  impressions 
made  of  himself,  as  a  preacher,  in  that  pulpit^  would 
have  a  very  inadequate  and  partial  conception  of  him 
as  a  man  of  learning,  a  man  of  talent  and  influence. 
The  natural  cast  of  his  mind  was  reflective,  meditative, 
introspective;  not  outward,  not  executive,  not  prag- 
matic ;  for  he  was  more  at  home  in  the  pursuit  and 
contemplation  of  truth,  than  in  dealing  with  men  in 
the  application  of  truths  already  apprehended,  and 
surely  believed  with  an  undoubting  faith.  Truth,  in 
his  mind,  did  not  lie  as  parcels  and  fragments,  but 
was  logically  connected,  disposed  in  system  and  in 
the  order  of  sequence.  Such  a  mind  is  not  naturally 
fitted  for  those  quick  movements,  rapid  evolutions, 
startUng  turns,  bold  asseverations,  which  to  the 
undiscipHned,  less  educated,  and  less  thoughtful,  the 
dependent  and  excitable,  are  impressive,  captivating, 
and  popular.  But  it  is  in  the  freedom,  liberty,  and 
leisure  of  more  private  operations,  that  its  rich  treas- 
ures are  slowly  brought  forth,  its  extent  and  certainty 
of  grasp  at  once  seen,  acknowledged,  and  admired. 

There  was  almost  no  question  in  morals,  in  policy, 
in  casuistry,  in  benevolence,  or  in  religion,  which  he 
had  not  thoughtfully  studied,  and  upon  which  he  had 
not  matured  his  opinion,  having  formed  an  enhght- 
ened  and  comprehensive  judgment.  His  mind  was 
equally  removed  from  a  conceited  and  dogmatic 
conservatism  on  the  one  hand,  and  from  a  rash 
and  empiric  radicalism  on  the  other. 


8 


Neither  the  bigot,  the  superstitious,  nor  the  fanatic, 
found  any  thing  in  him  answering  to  their  own 
wishes  and  character.  And  I  am  sure,  had  his  native 
modesty  and  his  long-continued  infirmities  (and 
which  were  the  greater  it  is  not  easy  to  say)  al- 
lowed him  to  reduce  to  form  and  cast,  before  the 
public,  his  opinions  and  matured  judgments  upon 
subjects  which  have  agitated  the  benevolent  and 
Christian  world  in  our  day,  he  would  have  appeared 
before  his  fellow-men,  generally,  in  a  light  in  which 
he  is  now  seen  only  by  intimate  associates  and 
endeared  friends  ;  but  seen  equally  to  be  reverenced 
in  his  opinions,  as  to  be  beloved  in  his  virtues,  and 
lowly  graces  of  heart. 

But  his  modesty  of  spirit  and  infirmities  of  body 
were  too  great  and  ever-abiding  for  his  reputation. 
He  was  as  one  whose  strong  limbs  and  full  muscles 
had  but  partial  movement,  by  reason  of  bonds  and 
fetters.  I  was  so  fully  sensible  of  this  ability  of 
his  mind,  and  this  trait  of  his  character,  that,  in 
our  confiding  and  fraternal  interviews,  which,  to  say 
the  truth,  were  not  few  or  rare,  I  often  importuned 
him  to  extra-official  exertion  and  labor.  But  it  was 
less  difficult  for  him  to  break  up  and  rise  superior  to 
the  bonds  of  an  infirm  and  lagging  body,  than  to 
cast  aside  the  stronger  bond  of  his  spirit,  his  unwar- 
rantable self  distrust  and  native  modesty.  From  the 
very  idea  of  unnecessary  publicity  —  of  notoriety  — 
his  sensitive  soul  instinctively  shrunk.  If  any  thing 
tempted  him  to  pass  censure  upon  his  acquaintance 
and  professional  brethren,  it  was  the  palpable  devel- 


9 


opment,  on  their  part,  of  an  ambitious  and  self-seeking 
spirit.  I  say  tempted  ;  for  rarely  was  the  act  of  censure 
done,  or  the  passage  and  transgression  of  the  com- 
mand, "  Speak  evil  of  no  man,"  actually  and  irrecov- 
erably made.  Great  thoughts,  noble  feelings,  magnan- 
imous and  disinterested  behavior,  were  the  elements 
of  his  mind,  the  appropriate  attributes  of  his  character. 
Were  it  not  to  insult  his  memory,  I  might  ask  you, 
if  it  were  possible  to  connect  and  associate  the  life 
and  conduct  of  the  deceased  with  any  thing  weak 
and  puerile  in  thought,  mean  and  ungenerous  in 
spirit,  ignoble  and  unbecoming  in  act,  and  I  think 
you  would  find  the  attempt  difficult ;  or,  when  you 
had  made  it,  you  one  and  all  would  exclaim,  of  the 
creature  of  your  own  imagination,  —  "That  is  not 
Mr.  Clark,  nor  any  thing  like  him  !  " 

Now  these,  in  part  at  least,  were  the  gifts  of  God, 
in  nature,  to  our  friend  and  brother,  and  surely 
no  less  gifts,  because  native,  than  had  they  been 
wholly  in  the  order  of  grace ;  nor,  can  I  see,  less 
gratefully  to  be  admitted  and  admired.  As  one  star 
differeth  from  another  star  by  creation,  so  must  it  be 
confessed,  and  that,  too,  without  the  denial  or  the 
least  abatement  of  a  cardinal  doctrine  of  the  Bible, 
touching  the  character  of  fallen  man,  there  is  a  differ- 
ence, wide  and  apparent,  in  the  children  of  men  from 
their  birth ;  and,  if  I  might  so  speak,  the  Spirit  of  God, 
in  his  renewing  and  sanctifying  office,  finds  in  some 
more  generous  and  noble  natures  to  work  upon,  less 
obstinate  and  less  reluctant  spirits  to  allure  and  capti- 
vate, than  in  others.    And  having  said  thus  much,  it 

2  UNIVERSITY  OF 

jLL  'tuiS  LIBRARY 


10 


were  but  just  and  proper  to  add,  that  the  power  and 
grace  of  God's  Spirit  are  as  decided  and  efficient  in 
the  last  case  as  in  the  former ;  —  in  the  hard  and 
barren,  as  in  the  generous  and  more  productive  soil, 
whose  fruits  are  more  conspicuous  and  admired. 

Our  friend,  my  hearers,  was  a  man  and  a  Chris- 
tian, royal  and  lovely  in  either  line  of  descent. 

Another  trait  in  the  character  of  our  deceased  friend 
and  brother  was  benevolence,  in  its  purest  form  and 
noblest  expression.  No  man  with  whom  it  has  been 
my  lot  to  associate  intimately  could  say  of  himselfj 
with  greater  truth  and  justice,  in  the  generous  and 
catholic  spirit  of  the  old  classic  poet,  "  I  am  a  man, 
and  nothing  that  relates  to  man  is  devoid  of  interest 
to  me,"  ■ —  with,  perhaps  he  might  have  added,  the 
exception  of  their  frailties  and  their  follies.  For  he 
was  not  only  a  lover  of  good  men,  but  a  lover  of  all 
men,  at  least  of  all  that  was  good  in  men.  With  an 
eye  quick  to  perceive,  and  a  heart  to  appreciate  and 
love,  whatever  was  lovely  and  of  good  report  in  his 
fellows  and  associates,  he  had  a  hand  quick  and  prone 
to  throw  the  mantle  of  charity  and  forgetfulness  over 
the  faihngs  and  follies  of  all ;  hiding  them,  if  I  may  so 
say,  not  only  from  others,  but  even  from  himself  I 
have  often  thought,  had  it  pleased  the  Sovereign  Dis- 
poser of  all  good  to  have  enriched  him  with  the  things 
of  this  world,  with  what  a  princely  hand  and  large 
heart  he  would  have  scattered  blessings  around  him, 
and  found  his  dehght  and  happiness  in  making  others 
happy.  But,  as  it  was,  there  was  a  certain  some- 
thing—  a  heart  —  a  sincerity  —  a  polished  grace  of 


11 


true  benevolence  in  the  smallest  favor  by  him  con- 
ferred, that  excellently  enhanced  the  gift,  and  made 
that  which,  perhaps,  was  intrinsically  insignificant, 
to  be  of  great  worth  and  high  esteem.    God,  in  his 
providence,  did  not  give  him  largely  the  means 
of  gratifying  this  strong  propension  of  his  heart  in 
the  conferring  of  outward  and  material  favors  :  hence 
his  benevolent  spirit  made  manifestation  and  employ- 
ment of  itself  in  other,  and  in  some  sense,  higher 
ways  and  means ;  that  is  to  say,  by  a  nice  and  tender 
regard  to  the  feelings  and  tastes,  yea,  the  prejudices 
and  weaknesses,  and,  in  a  word,  to  the  mental 
comfort,  ease,  and  freedom,  of  those  with  whom  he 
associated.     Hence  all  of  us  loved  his  society,  his 
presence,  his  cheerful  and  never  offending  conversa- 
tion: we  were  attracted  toward  him,  felt  safe  around 
and  near  him ;  no  one,  not  even  the  humblest,  the 
youngest,  the  least  intelligent,  was  repelled  or  thrown 
off  by  any  rudeness  of  manner,  insolence  of  spirit,  or 
coldness  of  behavior  and  address.    All  the  forces  of 
his  mind  were  attractive,  and  none  repelling.  And 
yet  this  certain  something  —  for  though  I  have  often 
felt  its  magic  power,  I  cannot  well,  by  word,  give  it 
a  name  —  was  at  a  great  distance  from  servility,  a 
cringing  and  fawning  disposition,  and  was  shed  over 
and  around  you  with  no  want  of  self-respect,  but 
was  expressed  with  the  conscious  dignity  of  man- 
hood, and  a  native  grace  of  manner  that  never  for- 
sook him,  but  was  peculiarly  his  own. 

It  was,  I  think,  the  genuine  spirit  of  love,  and  pure, 
unpretending  benevolence,  manifesting  itself  through 


12 


a  mind  of  high  tone,  natively  lofty  bearing,  childlike 
simplicity  and  innocence.  One  felt,  with  him,  and 
under  his  influence,  his  idea  of  man  dignified,  en- 
larged, ennobled.  The  child,  the  domestic,  the  com- 
mon laborer,  was  in  a  manner  treated  the  same  as 
those  of  a  more  advanced  and  higher  position  in  life, 
as  individually  members  of  the  one  great  common 
family,  and  not  as  a  distinct  and  inferior  order  of 
persons.  He  was,  in  an  enlarged,  philosophical,  and 
scriptural  sense,  an  Anti-slavery  man.  The  common 
civilities  and  courtesies  of  life,  passing  inquiries  of 
the  day,  —  the  How  do  you  do,  my  good  sir  ?  I  am 
glad  to  see  you," — the  shake  of  the  hand  with  its 
gracefully  antecedent  wave,  had  a  meaning  and  a 
power  which  will  be  sought  in  vain  in  any  forms  of 
politeness  and  etiquette  which  have  not  for  their  basis 
unaflTected  benevolence,  purified  Christian  earnest- 
ness, and  truth  of  feeling. 

There  was  in  my  friend  and  brother,  pervading 
and  tinging  the  operations  of  his  mind,  a  rich,  salient 
vein  of  playful  humor,  —  that  quick,  brilliant  reason, 
which,  as  Barrow  hath  said,  consisteth  in  one  knows 
not  what.  "  Its  ways  are  unaccountable  and  inexpli- 
cable, being  answerable  to  the  numberless  rovingsof 
fancy,  and  windings  of  language."  He  Avas  apt  and 
wont,  himself,  to  say  many  apt  and  pleasant  things ; 
and  he  enjoyed,  with  a  keen  zest,  any  thing  of  the 
kind,  in  his  associates  and  friends,  if  so  be  it  were 
pure  and  innocent.  It  is  matter  of  observation  that 
this  property  of  mind,  while  it  often  delights,  some- 
times offends  and  wounds.    In  him,  it  was  baptized 


13 


and  purified  in  the  clear,  transparent  flowings  of 
a  pure  love.    Nothing  biting,  nothing  sarcastic  or 
ironical,  escaped  from  his  lips.    He  made  fun  and 
mock  of  no  creature  of  God.    His  wit  and  humor 
conversed  with  things  and  thoughts,  and  not  so  much 
with  men  and  characters.    "  Sometimes  it  lie  in  a 
pat  allusion  to  a  known  story,  or  in  a  sensible  appli- 
cation of  a  trivial  saying;  sometimes  it  played  in 
words  and  phrases;  sometimes  it  lodged  in  a  sly 
question,  in  a  shrewd  intimation,  or  in  closely  retort- 
ing an  objection  :  "  hence,  while  you  saw  its  glare 
and  brightness,  it  was  never  with  the  foreboding  fear 
that  its  stroke  might  ere  long  fall  upon  you  or  yours, 
smiting,  prostrating,  and  humbling  you  in  the  dust. 
This  trait  and  grace  of  mind  he  had  rightfully  and 
by  inheritance,  being  descended  of  a  race  in  whose 
character  it  is  proverbially  prominent  —  the  Scotch 
Irish,  so  called.    And  I  may  add,  that,  amid  all  the 
solemnities  of  a  deathbed  —  in  the  undressing  of  his 
soul  —  the  reverential  and  earnest  abiding  of  the 
quick-coming  scenes  of  eternity  —  the  patient  expec- 
tation of  heaven  and. its  glories,  which  were  the 
objects  of  trust  and  faith  in  Christ  only,  his  pleasantry 
and  his  humor  were  with  him ;  and  there,  and  with 
the  other  and  spiritual  exercises  of  his  mind,  gave  a 
very  pleasant  and  grateful  air  to  the  sick  chamber 
and  to  the  deathbed,  where  the  good  man  met  his 
fate,  making  less  frightful,  pleasant  and  joyous  even, 
the  noiseless  approach  of  the  king  of  terrors.  Thus 
was  he  natural  and  himself,  up  to  the  extremest 
hour  of  life  and  in  the  solemn  article  of  death ;  a 


14 


devout,  confiding  Christian  indeed,  but  no  less  a  man 
gifted  and  endowed  as  well  by  nature  as  by  the  grace 
of  God.  His  life  of  excellence  was  crowned  by  a 
graceful,  dignitied,  and  sacred  period. 

Still  another  feature  of  the  mind  of  our  deceased 
friend,  which  has  often  impressed  me,  was  his  child- 
like simplicity  and  transparency  of  character.  At  a 
first  interview,  you  saw  him,  not  indeed  all  of  him, 
but  you  saw  Inm.  We  sometimes  open  a  book,  and 
read  a  few  chapters  with  pleasure  and  profit ;  but  we 
cannot  tell,  as  we  say,  how  it  will  come  out.  So  it 
is  with  persons  and  their  manifestations.  Now  there 
was  nothing  of  this  obscurity  in  Samuel  Wallace 
Clark.  You  might  see  him  for  a  short  time,  and  in 
part  only ;  but  what  you  did  see  was  his  own  very 
self,  and  sample  of  all  the  rest.  When  he  came  into 
company  from  the  sanctuary  of  his  family,  he  came 
the  same  man  that  he  was  at  home,  having  passed 
through  no  self-induced  change  by  the  way;  and 
when  he  entered  his  study,  or  was  suddenly  broken 
in  upon,  there  he  was,  the  same  bland,  polite,  agree- 
able, social  spirit.  In  him  were  no  under-currents 
and  windings  of  character  and  of  purpose  —  no  say- 
ing of  one  thing  for  the  occasion,  and  meaning  and 
pursuing  another  for  self  He  was  truthful,  and  to  be 
depended  upon.  Your  heart  might  safely  trust  in 
him,  even  as  the  heart  of  a  man  trusts  in  a  prudent 
wife,  the  companion  of  his  bosom.  I  can  think  of 
only  one  exception  in  him  to  this  general  remark  — 
one  aspect  and  phasis  of  his  character  which  ap- 
proached to  any  thing  like  concealment  or  hiding 


15 


of  himself.     And  it  does  appear  to  me,  that  in 
him  many  of  his  less  intimate  associates  were  de- 
ceived ;  yea,  that  our  good  brother,  in  one  matter, 
did  practise  deception.    You  all  remember  how  uni- 
formly cheerful  and  happy  he  was,  or  appeared  to 
be.    It  might  seem  to  some,  he  knew  not  anguish 
and  unhappiness,  and  was  raised  by  the  tone  of  his 
spirit  and  the  majesty  of  his  mind  almost  above  the 
possibility  of  them ;  but  they  who  thus  concluded, 
and  acted  consistently  with  such  a  conclusion,  were 
greatly  mistaken,  and  far  out  of  the  way.    For  few 
men  exposed  a  greater  or  tenderer  or  more  sensitive 
surface  of  soul  to  the  ills  and  annoyances  of  life,  than 
did  he.    But  his  benevolence  prompted  him  to  keep 
the  causes  and  facts  of  his  sufferings  to  himself 
Patient,  uncomplaining,  submissive,  far  enough  was 
he  from  filling  his  fellow's  ear  with  the  sad  tale  of  all 
his  trials  and  cares.    He  had  a  happy  dexterity  and 
sleight  of  mind,  in  submerging  and  drowning  out  of 
sight  of  others,  and  of  himself  even,  unpleasant  things, 
corrosive  and  querulous  cares  and  anxieties.  And 
happy  he  that  he  could  thus  do ;  for  he  had  ample 
occasion  for  the  use  of  the  talent. 

Ingratitude,  meanness,  unworthy,  unconfiding,  un- 
sympathetic conduct  wounded  his  kind  and  gentle 
soul  to  the  very  quick,  and  sometimes  made  it  bleed, 
in  secret,  at  every  pore,  large  drops ;  while,  at  the  same 
time,  he  shed  tears  of  pity,  and  gave  forth  words  of 
forgiveness  and  of  love. 

It  has  been  a  matter  of  wonder  to  me,  that, 
in  circumstances  and  amid  trials  that  would  have 


16 


soared  a  common  and  not  so  well-balanced  mind, 
lie  retained  his  generous  sympathies,  the  integrity 
and  healthy  sweetness  of  his  own  incorrupt  and 
generous  spirit.    I  have  observed  that  he  had  one, 
and  only  one,  form  of  retahating  neglect  and  unkind- 
ness ;  and  what  this  way  was,  will  be  understood 
by  quoting  his  often-made  remark  in  time  of  trial  : 
Well,  to  say  the  truth,  my  good  sir,  they  or  he  reward 
me  better  than  I  deserve  or  treat  them."    Thus  did 
his  modesty  and  low  sense  of  himself  come  in  as  a 
kind  of  shield  to  ward  off  the  ills  and  neglects  of 
life  —  to  break  their  force,  or,  at  any  rate,  as  an  emol- 
Kent  medicine  to  extract  their  bitterness,  and  allay 
the  anguish  of  the  wounds  of  ingratitude,  unfaith- 
fulness, and  injustice.    And  as  in  this  respect  in  life, 
so  also  in  sickness  and  in  death,  he  was  uniformly 
uncomplaining,  patient,  and  submissive,  and  did  all 
things  and  suffered  all  things  which  it  pleased  Al- 
mighty God  to  lay  upon  him,  without  murmurings 
or  disputings  with  his  fellow-man  and  equal,  or  the 
great  God  his  Creator  and  Judge.    Strife,  contention, 
warfare,  resistance,  were  things  so  uncongenial  to  his 
lamb-like  spirit,  so  unused  and  unapt  was  his  soul 
for  such  armor,  that  it  must  be  confessed  he  did 
sometimes  submit  and  retire,  when  certainly  other 
equally  good  men  would  have  stood  their  just  ground, 
and  successfully  asserted  their  rights;  and  when  pos- 
sibly it  may  have  been  better  for  him,  certainly  for 
his,  had  he  so  done  —  which,  alas!  he  would  not 
and  could  not  do  ;  and  this  then  I  have  only  to  say,  let 
the  blame  thereof;  if  there  be  any,  rest  where  it  may, 


17 


and  belongs.  He  was  a  coward,  when  and  where 
he  that  wrote  or  said  him  coward  felt  and  admired 
him  a  Christian  hero.  For  the  battles  he  fought  were 
conflicts  with  himself;  and  the  victories  he  gained  the 
triumphs  of  restraining  grace  and  forgiving  love. 
And  inspiration  has  long  since  spoken  the  praises  of 
such  a  man,  when  it  declares,  "  He  that  is  slow 
to  anger  is  better  than  the  mighty;  and  he  that 
ruleth  his  spirit,  than  he  that  taketh  a  city.  Pleasant 
words  are  as  a  honey-comb ;  sweet  to  the  soul,  and 
health  to  the  bones." 

Nor  is  it  so  clear  in  the  long  run,  that,  by  this  inac- 
tivity of  the  spirit  of  resistance,  he  did  not  gain  more 
victories  over  men,  and  gain  a  larger  territory  in  the 
affections  of  those  otherwise  disposed,  than,  in  his 
circumstances,  would  have  been  yielded  to  a  more 
active  conduct  and  defensive  spirit.  How  else  shall 
we  account  for  the  perpetually  increasing  and  strong 
hold  he  gained,  and  continued  to  gain,  from  day  to 
day,  over  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  him,  and  with 
whom  he  had  to  do,  or  who  had  to  do  with  him  ? 
Certainly  thus  much  does  appear ;  that  it  required  a 
very  sturdy,  dogged,  and  selfish  man  to  contend  with 
your  late  pastor. 

Again,  let  me  say,  our  friend  had  a  great  love  of 
life,  and  enjoyment  of  the  gifts  of  God,  in  nature,  and 
in  providence.  Whatever  was  beautiful  and  comely 
in  social  life  and  love,  found  in  him  ever,  one  who 
had  a  keen,  hungry  appetite ;  an  appetite,  thank  God, 
not  left  to  its  unappeased  and  unsatisfied  cravings. 
To  him,  home,  though  humble  and  far  enough  from 
3 


18 


the  appliances  of  luxurious  enjoyments,  was  indeed 
a  sanctuary,  and  its  joys  passing  sweet,  and  his  pres- 
ence made  them  so,  to  all  who  were  inmates  of  his 
dwelling.  Strictly  observant,  himself;  of  all  the  pro- 
prieties and  amenities  of  life,  he  enjoyed  them  much 
in  others ;  and  expected,  and,  as  it  were,  by  his  exam- 
ple, exacted  them  from  all  around  him,  without  stiff- 
ness and  the  sternness  of  a  severe  formulary  and 
discipline,  but  by  an  exemplification  of  the  beauty 
and  propriety  of  them,  as  seen  in  himself  and  his 
behavior. 

It  was  his  desire  and  study  to  contribute  all  in  his 
power  to  the  sum  total  of  domestic  enjoyment;  and 
he  wished  and  enjoined,  that  all  in  subordination  to 
him  should  voluntarily  be  in  subordination,  also,  to 
the  same  great  law.    He  saw  God,  and  he  enjoyed 
God,  in  the  beauty  and  harmony  of  the  social  and 
family  world.     He  enjoyed  God,  too,  in  all  the 
arrangements  and  riches  of  his  providence.    To  his 
eye,  the  outward  and  natural  world  was  as  a  great 
temple,  fitted  up  for  the  praise  and  glory  of  its  Maker, 
and  in  it  he  delighted  to  be  a  constant  and  devout 
worshipper.    Nature  —  a  beautiful  landscape,  a  fine 
farm  —  to  him  meant  something  more  and  higher  than 
so  many  bushels  of  merchantable  corn,  or  so  many 
silver  dollars  received  in  exchange  therefor.  Thou^^h 
he  had  no  manor,  nor  a  little  parsonage  even,  owned 
not  a  foot  of  land,  —  except  that  small,  narrow  strip, 
which,  by  reversion  and  the  law  of  nature,  despite 
of  man's  cupidhy,  at  last  falls  to  every  one  in  his 
extremest  necessity,  and  which  his  cold  remains  now 


19 


sanctify,  —  I  doubt  whether  any  one  of  the  intelUgent, 
thriving,  and  independent  farmers  of  his  town  and 
parish  ever  received  more  pleasure  from  his  fat  acres, 
watered  by  "  the  river  of  God,"  and  putting  forth  in 
vernal  beauty  and  glory,  or  waving  with  autumnal 
and  golden  harvests,  than  did  he.  Since  then,  he  as 
certainly  had  a  weak  and  languishing  body  to  be 
sustained  by  bread,  as  he  did  have  a  soul,  great,  gen- 
erous, and  noble,  to  be  regaled  in  its  appetites  and 
tastes  with  the  beauties  and  glories  of  nature,  and 
to  luxuriate  in  the  goodness  of  God  there  seen,  I 
would  that  the  pleasures  accruing  therefrom  had  not 
been  so  peculiarly  those  of  the  inner  man. 

But  this  demand  and  tax  for  the  support  and  com- 
fort of  his  spirit,  which  he  himself,  modest  as  he  was, 
laid  upon  nature,  had  this  advantage ;  that,  as  it  was 
necessary  to  his  happiness,  usefulness,  and  existence 
even,  it  was  promptly  met  and  generously  paid. 

I  remember  well,  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  sickness, 
when  as  yet  he  went  abroad,  looking  through  nature 
up  to  nature's  God,  upon  his  return  from  a  walk  to  a 
neighboring  farm,  it  was  said,  "  Well,  brother  C,  how 
convenient  for  you,  or  for  any  poor,  sick  minister,  to 
have  such  a  farm."  "Yes,  yes,  my  dear  sir!  that 
indeed  it  would,"  he  replied,  "but  after  all,  I  believe  I 
enjoy  it  as  much  as  the  good  man  who  owns  it."  Thus 
in  him,  and  in  this,  was  illustrated  and  fulfilled  the 
promise  of  God,  "  The  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth." 

But  now,  praised  be  God  I  having  overcome  the 
world  through  faith,  to  him,  we  beheve,  it  is  given 
"  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,  that  is  in  the  midst  of  the 
paradise  of  God."    What  scenes,  what  beauties, 


20 


and  what  glories,  above  the  power  of  man  to  con- 
ceive, have  burst  upon  his  enraptured  vision ;  what 
objects,  what  thoughts,  occupy  his  noble  and  puri- 
fied spirit,  and  fill  his  large  and  capacious  heart,  it  is 
not  for  us  to  say.    We  cannot  tell  what  he  is  now; 
what  his  relations  to  us ;  what  he  knows  of  us.  We 
do  not  understand  him  ;  we  do  not  see  him  :  but  it 
is  not  at  all  certain  that  he  has  not  some  mysterious 
hold  upon  us.    We  have  marked  his  pathway  in  life 
with  us,  studied  the  development  of  his  lovely  char- 
acter up  to  the  extremest  hmit  and  boundary  of  his 
sojourn  on  earth ;  yea,  we  did  go  down  with  him,  help- 
ing  him,  as  he  gently  and  without  fear  touched  the 
waters  of  the  river  of  death  ;  the  passage  of  which  he 
quickly  and  safely  made ;  yet  by  us,  ourselves,  to  be 
made  ;  and  may  it  be  with  like  gentleness  and  good 
hope.    But  this  we  do  know,  that,  being  of  that  num- 
ber whose  "robes  are  washed  and  made  white  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb,"  he  shall  hunger  no  more, 
neither  thirst  any  more ;  neither  shall  the  sun  light 
on  him,  nor  any  heat ;  for  the  Lamb  that  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  him,  and  shall  lead 
him  unto  living  fountains  of  waters  :  and  God  shall 
wipe  away  all  tears  from  his  eyes.    Fare  thee  well, 
my  friend!  my  brother!  poor,  worn,  and  weary;' 
having  escaped  from  the  conflict  of  life,  —  its  chilling 
winds,  its  rude  blasts,  —  enter  thou  in,  and  possess 
that  goodly  land,  that  rest  prepared  for  the  people  of 
God.   "  Very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  to  me  : "  it  were 
selfish,  were  it  not  impossible,  to  detain  thee  from 
rest,  and  peace,  and  glory,  and  eternal  life  :  but  thy 
departure  extinguishes  and  diminishes  one  light  to 


21 


our  little  world,  even  as  if  thy  sun  had  gone 
down  in  night  and  darkness,  and  had  not  emerged, 
responsively  obedient  to  a  higher  law,  and  to  thy 
God,  to  shine  in  brightness  and  in  glory  in  that  upper 
world.  To  us,  and  for  a  time,  thou  art  lost ;  thy  loss 
we  deplore ;  nor  can  the  consolations  of  reUgion,  or 
of  thy  happy  and  graceful  departure,  prevent  us. 

But  is  our  friend,  in  truth  and  reality,  ahve  ?  Hath 
he  not  ceased  to  be?    Were  not  the  last  words,  so 
characteristic,  "I  thank  you,"  in  very  deed  the  last 
words  of  his  conscious  spirit,  now  extinct,  and  for 
ever  ?    Is  it  true  that  he  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth, 
and  in  Christ  ?    Who  shall  say  ?    Who  can  know  ? 
Have  we  not  all,  this  day,  been  cheating  ourselves  with 
phantoms  and  dreams,  assuaging  our  deep  griefs  with 
the  grateful  vagaries  of  our  foolish  and  ill-directed  im- 
aginations ?   For  I  do  look  up  to  that  pulpit,  his  recent 
joy  and  delight,  but  I  see,  and  ye  all  see,  he  certainly  is 
not  there !    I  look  again,  and  wistfully,  around  this 
«  communion  table,"  but  neither  do  I  see  him  here,  and 
in  his  wonted  place  ;  others  have  this  day  served  in 
his  office.   I  go  to  his  humble  dwelling,  but  he  meets 
me  not  at  the  threshold  with  the  sincere  and  graceful 
welcome  ;  and  now  I  ascend  to  the  sick  chamber, 
carefully  and  softly,  and  still  I  find  him  not,  but  all  is 
silence  and  solitude.     "  He  has  passed  into  the 
land  that  is  very  far  off."    I  will  go,  then,  to  yonder 
hill,  whither  devout  men  carried  him  to  his  burial, 
and  made  great  lamentation  over  him,  a  few  days 
since  ;  and  standing  on  that  little  tumulus,  in  the 
words  of  friendship  and  fraternal  love,  to  which 
he  never  turned  a  deaf  ear,  call  upon  him,  court 


22 


his  presence,  wait  his  coming  and  response.  But 

ah  !  no  responsive  voice  ansvi^ers  to  my  voice  ;  all 

there  is  silent  as  the  grave,  dark  as  night,  hopeless  as 
despair !    "  Lazarus  plainly  is  dead." 

"  Lord,  hadst  thou  been  here,  then  my  brother  had 
not  died  ! "  exclaim  we,  in  the  agony  of  our  late  be- 
reavement, the  anguish  of  our  irreparable  loss.  But 
hark  ye,  be  still!  Amid  the  tumult  of  passion  and  of 
grief,  and  in  the  darkness  and  uncertainty  of  nature, 
with  her  highest  and  divinest  philosophy,  I  hear  a 
gentle  and  decisive  voice  saying,  — ■  "  I  am  the  resur- 
rection, and  the  life  :  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though 
he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  hve  :"—  "  because  I  live,  ye 
shall  live  also."    And  yet  a  little  time,  and  that  same 
voice  from  heaven,  '^as  thevoice  of  many  waters,  and 
as  the  voice  of  a  great  thunder,"  shall  break  upon  the 
world.   "  And  the  sea  shall  give  up  the  dead  which  are 
in  it,  and  death  and  hell  shall  deliver  up  the  dead 
which  are  in  them,  and  they  shall  be  judged  every 
man  according  to  his  works."     The  doubt  is  fled  — 
the  uncertainty  is  gone  —  the  fond  and  native  wish 
of  the  heart  is  matter  of  assurance  and  of  Christian 
faith.    Did  Jesus  live  — did  he  die  — did  he  arise 
from  the  grave  —  did  he  ascend  on  high,  leading  cap- 
tivity captive?  Bereaved  and  smitten  ones,  brethren, 
friends,  one  and  all,  ye  have  the  proof  before  you  ;  ye 
see  it  with  your  eyes ;  and  some  of  ye  have  even 
handled  it,  as  did  the  doubting  disciple  the  body  of 
his  risen  Saviour,  exclaiming,  "  My  Lord,  and  my 
God  ! "    Yes,  amid  the  studies  of  nature,  the  doubtful 
speculations  of  inquiring  sages  and  seers  of  old,  we 
may  conjecture  and  feebly  apprehend  a  future  state 


23 


of  happiness  ;  the  immortaUty  of  the  soul:  alas  !  how 
feebly  and  dimly ;  but  Christ  hath  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  hght  through  the  gospel.    "  Because  I 
hve,  ye  shall  live  also."    Blessed  assurance ;  final  end 
and  extinguisher  alike  of  controversy  and  of  doubt ! 
Thus  have  I  given,  as  by  request,  a  short  and  imper- 
fect sketch  of  him  and  his  life,  whose  worth  you  all 
knew,  some  of  you,  at  least,  longer  and  better  than 
myself    And  it  were  impertinent,  obtrusive,  and  un- 
necessary for  me  thus  to  have  attempted,  were  it  not 
a  fact,  that,  while  we  all  feel  and  acknowledge,  that 
«  Truly  the  light  is  sweet,  and  a  pleasant  thing  it  is 
for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun,"  few  have  the  taste 
or  at  least  the  time  and  opportunity  to  analyze  its 
powers,  to  expose  its  elements  and  attributes,  in  their 
simplest  character  and  forms. 

Permit  me,  then,  to  close  this  imperfect  sketch  of 
the  character  of  my  beloved  and  deceased  friend,  a 
country  pastor,  in  the  words  of  affection  and  of 
veneration  used  many  years  ago,  by  one  of  pleasant  ^ 
memory,  with  reference  to  his  associate  and  friend, 
the  pious  George  Herbert:  "  Thus  he  lived,  and  thus 
he  died  ;  Uke  a  saint,  unspotted  of  the  world,  full  of 
alms-deeds,  full  of  humility,  and  all  the  examples  of  ^ 
a  virtuous  life  ;  which  I  cannot  conclude  better  than 
with  this  borrowed  observation  :  — 

'  All  must  to  their  cold  graves  *, 
But  the  religious  actions  of  the  just 
Smell  sweet  in  death,  and  blossom  in  the  dust.' 

"  I  wish,  if  God  may  be  so  pleased,  that  I  may  be 
so  happy  as  to  die  like  him." 


A  r  r  E  N  D  I X . 


The  Rev.  Samuel  Wallace  Clark  was  born  December  15,  1795,  in  Han- 
cock, New  Hampshire. 

John  and  Rebecca  Wallace  Clark  were  the  parents  of  ten  children,  of 
whom  Samuel  was,  by  birth,  the  second.  Four  sons  and  four  daughters 
lived  to  mature  age.    Six  of  their  children  are  now  living. 

The  subject  of  these  remarks  was  educated  at  Dartmouth  College  ;  was 
graduated,  with  honor,  in  the  class  of  1823,  and  finished  his  professional 
studies  in  1827,  at  the  Theological  Seminary,  Andover.  During  eighteen 
years,  he  was  the  affectionate  and  much-beloved  pastor  of  the  Congrega- 
tional church  in  Greenland,  N.  H. 

After  a  lingering  illness,  and  long  confinement,  he  died,  of  bronchial 
consumption,  August  17,  1847,  in  great  calmness  and  peace  of  spirit; 
leaving  a  wife  and  three  children,  and  a  very  large  circle  of  relatives  and 
friends,  to  mourn  and  to  rejoice  at  his  graceful  and  Christian  exit  from  the 
world. 

The  following  is  a  transcript  from  the  first  page  of  the  "  Records  "  of  the 
church  in  Greenland :  — 

"  Rev.  William  Allen  was  ordained,  July  15,  1707  ;  died,  1760,  aged  84 
years.  A  parish  meeting,  which  was  warned  on  8th  of  September,  was 
holden  on  the  9th,  to  make  arrangements  for  his  funeral. 

"  Rev.  Samuel  M'Clintock,  D.D.,  was  ordained  a  colleague  with  Mr. 
Allen,  November  3,  1756;  died,  April  27,  1804,  aged  72. 

"  Rev.  James  Armstrong  Neal,  was  ordained  May  22nd,  1805  ;  died,  July 
18,  1808,  aged  34. 

"Rev.  Ephraim  Abbot,  was  ordained  October  27, 1813  ;  dismissed,  Octo- 
ber 28,  1828. 

"Rev.  Samuel  Wallace  Clark,  ordained  August  5,  1829 ;  died,  August 
17,  1847,  aged  52  years." 


